


What has Stayed the Same

by Kate (Lil_Miss_Nugget)



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Amnesia, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Has PTSD, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Fluff, M/M, SO MUCH FLUFF, Stream of Consciousness, Sweet Steve, but he gets better I promise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-22
Updated: 2015-05-22
Packaged: 2018-03-31 16:20:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3984745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lil_Miss_Nugget/pseuds/Kate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They’re walking side-by-side, and Bucky can’t help but think ‘There’s no way this is the same Stevie.’ The man beside him is tall, taller than Bucky, with broad shoulders and not a trace of the protruding ribs or malnourished, pale skin that Bucky remembers from just yesterday. At least it feels like just yesterday…</p>
            </blockquote>





	What has Stayed the Same

**Author's Note:**

> Bucky is supposed to be on the recovery curve from amnesia and PTSD, so there may be some awkwardness grammatically, but it's intentional. Read it like you're in Bucky's head; his thoughts can be a little jumbled as he tries to piece everything together, but the writing style makes sense.
> 
> Really hope you guys enjoy!

They’re walking side-by-side, and Bucky can’t help but think ‘There’s no way this is the same Stevie.’ The man beside him is tall, taller than Bucky, with broad shoulders and not a trace of the protruding ribs or malnourished, pale skin that Bucky remembers from just yesterday. At least it feels like just yesterday…

 

Steve nudges Bucky’s hand. The gesture is so feather-light, Bucky almost doesn’t notice it, but when he looks up Steve is holding his hand out to him, all kind eyes and smile lines. Bucky, frightened at first by the blonde’s forwardness, has the urge to smack Steve’s hand down, but then remembers times are different now and loving whoever you love is not something to be hidden, so he shyly takes the blonde man’s calloused hand, a deep blush filling his pale cheeks. At least Steve’s hands feel the same. Steve’s hands had never been babysoft - years of sketching, painting, getting into fights and losing them miserably left Steve with plenty of scars long before he became the First Avenger.

 

Holding hands was still the same. Doing it in broad daylight was a pleasant change.

 

They’re still walking, hand-in-hand now, where? Bucky doesn’t remember for a moment, he’s so focused on the way Steve’s thumb is running over his knuckles in slow circles, but then recalls - home. He can’t help but bow his head as people pass by, afraid that someone might ridicule him for holding hands with a man or recognize him from his days as an assassin and shriek in horror, but no one does. No one calls him a queer or shrinks away from his metal arm. A woman actually smiles at Bucky as she passes, wishing the two men good evening and carrying on. The genuine kindness throws him. Bucky knew he had no reason to be ashamed of what he had with Steve, but it was still so odd to fall asleep in a world that would have scorned the relationship between he and Steve and wake up in one that practically idolized it.

 

The world is different. It's bright and welcoming, a little scary, but it's good.

 

Bucky can barely remember a time when he was not feared or hated. Hydra had taken away so many of those happy memories of dancing, joking around with Steve, being surrounded by smiling faces of those that adored him. Hydra replaced the dancing with experimentation, the smiling faces with the sick grimaces of his tormentors or the horrified victims in front of his loaded gun. Steve had told him that everything was going to be different - a good different - and that even though adjusting would be a tempered process not without its difficulties, they would make plenty of happy memories in the years to come. Bucky wants to believe him so, so badly, but this new life frightens him just as much as it entices him. He feels like a mess, a chore; he wakes up screaming almost every night because when he closes his eyes he’s back in the chair, being stripped of the memory of Steve’s smile, of happiness, of every ounce of his soul, and Steve has to hold him and rock him until the tears cease and he comes back down to earth. He feels so weak. He always feels so weak.

 

Before Bucky realizes it, they’ve reached their apartment. Steve finally got a place in Brooklyn a few months back. Since Bucky joined SHIELD and moved in with Steve, Steve wanted to find a place that was similar to their old home. Though a few boxes were still unpacked, the walls were blank and the kitchen was about the size of a quarter, the dingy apartment was everything they could have asked for in a home. It was familiar, in their hometown, and neither had lived in very spacious accommodations before, so it was perfect. Besides, they were out on missions together so often the only room that got any real use was the bedroom.

 

Bucky flops unceremoniously on the couch and watches as Steve grabs some beers from their dinky fridge, silently admiring the way his muscles shift under the fabric of his grey shirt. Steve sits next to him and hands the brunette his drink with a smile. Bucky can't help but smile back. Bucky barely smiles at anyone anymore. It's too much effort to be happy for people that could later forget him, hurt him, or worse. A smile takes effort, heart, and heart isn’t something Bucky can easily give away. But when Steve smiles at him like that, a warmth blossoms in his core and courses through his veins, shining out of his eyes and gracing his lips with a small, pleasant smile.

 

Steve doesn't see it very often, but Bucky's smile is as beautiful as it ever was before.

 

They sit like that for some time, sipping their beers and occasionally talking about the day they had, until Steve sits up from his slouch, puts his empty bottle on the coffee table and crawls over Bucky to lie on his chest, head tucked under his chin like he isn't a two-hundred pound super soldier but that frail punk from seventy-five years ago. Bucky shifts to make both of them more comfortable and softly kisses the blonde's crown. Their legs intertwine and Bucky brings his metal arm around Steve's back. They always used to lie like this before the war. The night Steve's mom died, they built a couch fort and curled up in the worn cushions, Bucky stroking Steve's hair and pressing kisses over his forehead and tearstained cheeks until the first light of dawn peeked through the dusty shutters. Bucky finds himself combing gently through Steve's hair with his fingers as the memory fades. He sighs deeply, relaxed, and presses another kiss to the top of Steve's head. Then another. And another. Slowly, Bucky's lips work their way over the canvas of Steve's face, worshipping his flushed cheeks, the point of his nose, the sharp angle of his jaw, and finally, when neither can wait another second, his lips.

 

Bucky would never get enough of those lips. They were the same, soft lips that he had kissed for the first time in his living room a lifetime ago, the same lips that woke him from his nightmares, the same, and only, lips Bucky ever desired.

 

The kiss ends before it gains much momentum. Steve pulls back just enough to peer down at Bucky, and the brunette can’t help but blush under his intense gaze. Bucky reaches up, slowly, shyly, and cups the blonde’s face in both hands. Steve leans into the warmth of his flesh palm as Bucky swipes Steve’s messy bangs back with his metal fingers. He takes in everything: Steve’s gorgeous blue eyes, his disheveled hair, his full lips which are oh so slightly parted as he catches his breath, waiting patiently for Bucky’s next move.

 

Bucky smiles softly, and makes his decision. He sits up, gently pushing Steve's chest so he is forced to go back to sitting on the couch. Steve looks almost disappointed, but is too selfless to let Bucky know that. The brunette stands, running his fingers through his hair once as he moves to stand in front of Steve, between the sitting man's knees. He cups the blonde's face again, and Steve slides his hands gently up the backs of Bucky's thighs, over the front of his hips, before holding his slim waist gently in his large hands. Bucky runs his fingers gently through Steve's hair, watching as he closes his eyes contentedly. He trails his hands down Steve's neck, over his broad shoulders, up his strong arms and gently takes hold of his hands. The same, calloused, gentle hands...

And as Bucky gently tugs Steve to his feet, leading him to their shared bedroom, as Steve's body presses him against the closed door, as his lips are overtaken by the only ones he's ever desired, Bucky realizes that, sure, a lot has changed, but the thing he truly loves has stayed the same, and will be waiting for him - all kind eyes and smile lines - when he wakes up tomorrow and every day thereafter. That is something that will never change.

**Author's Note:**

> //sweats nervously
> 
> Any thoughts? Might do a smutty sequel, could be fun ;) But yeah, first fic! Let me know whatcha think!
> 
> Special thanks to Chris for being my Number 1 editor!


End file.
